The effects of abuse
by slytherinsal
Summary: Harry learned a lot from the Dursleys; how to take care of number one was the major lesson. Distinctly grey! Harry. Combat gardening to be found within. He makes some unexpected friends too, and will you Puffs quit chanting 'Badger! Badger'


The effects of abuse

Harry Potter was a skilled pickpocket. It had been the key to survival through those times he was locked in his cupboard for extended periods. He had managed to steal the key and have it copied when Aunt Petunia was not looking, which meant he could manage bathroom needs when locked in for extended periods, and the spare change he picked out of pockets went to buy sundry canned food and a can opener. He had considered a camping gaz stove, but there was too much likelihood his relatives would smell hot food, and besides, there was the risk of carbon monoxide. It was a way a lot of people seemed to die, and get themselves into the paper. Harry had looked into how to make sure the gas fire could be used to poison the Dursleys, but the problem was surviving without looking responsible. The school library had enough true crime books for Harry to realise that getting away with murder wasn't easy.

Then came the farce of all the letters, and Harry found himself in the company of Hagrid, in Diagon Alley, and the giant was not about to leave Harry long enough to check out all the books he wanted, or convert any money into pounds and pence, and it was downright annoying.

Getting his key back from the big man's pocket was child's play; and Harry also swiped the small parcel Hagrid had got out of the other vault.

"Oh Hagrid!" he piped, as the big man got out his handkerchief to mop his face. "Did you notice that little parcel fall out of your pocket? It went down the drain, I hope it wasn't important."

"Oh no!" Hagrid turned round, dismayed, peering at a drain. He lay down to peer through its bars, and poked his umbrella through. " _accio_ Philosopher's Stone!" he tried.

Harry felt the packet in his pocket twitch, rather apathetically. The Philosopher's Stone, huh? He'd read about that in a children's story which referred to the desire of alchemists to make such a thing. So it was real, huh? Maybe some books on alchemy might not go amiss either.

There had to be something magic or alchemy could do, which was less obvious than drugging food and sealing his relatives into a room with a faulty heater, or buying a castor oil plant to make ricin to kill them.

However, as Hagrid was now indelibly glued to the pavement, trying to lift a drain cover, Harry slipped back to the bank, and asked to make another withdrawal, and have some converted to muggle money.

"What do you want that stuff for, Mr. Potter? It's worthless," said the teller. Harry checked his name.

"What do you do with the money that muggleborns bring in, then, Logjamb?" he asked.

"We keep the metal and burn the paper," shrugged Logjamb. "Nothing we can do with it."

"I'll take it away for you, if you like," said Harry. "You can pay me ten sickles a ... pound weight of it." He had almost said kilogram, but somehow he doubted the wizarding world worked in kilograms.

"Really?" Logjamb brightened. "I'll have to ask my boss, but that would be better than polluting the air with it. It's not worth more than five sickles a pound for it."

"It's a service I'm providing for you; but I will be content with a fair price your supervisor suggests," said Harry. "Well, put it in my vault, and I'll collect it when I am next in the alley."

"Certainly, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you would just take what I have here for now, and you can let me know what I owe you later."

"Sure," said Harry. He received a good stack of bank notes, and was taken aback to see a few red ones. Harry had never seen a fifty pound note before. He would need a way to open a bank account, but that was to worry about another time.

Next stop was the trunk shop.

"Hagrid's a bit straightforward," said Harry. "I noticed some multi-compartment trunks in the back, which he didn't give me time to look at."

"Certainly, sir, only the best for the saviour of the wizarding world," said the salesman. Harry ended up with a trunk with blood wards, three compartments for clothes, books and potion supplies, a potions laboratory and a bedroom with attached toilet and food storage stasis cabinet. It was bigger than Dudley's first bedroom, never mind his second. Having ascertained that he could live in here, even when the trunk was shrunk on the outside, Harry decided that he could probably hide out for weeks by getting into it on a random train and being placed into left luggage. Hiding out was very important to Harry; it meant avoiding people like Dudley.

And then he could go and get all the books he wanted, and flick through the potions books to see if there were any potions which might prove useful in getting rid of his relatives. That meant a trip to the apothecary again, and a selection of ingredients outside of those which sounded useful. And he would have to learn how to brew properly as well.

Harry was set.

As a matter of interest, he investigated the Philosopher's Stone. It was a red, slightly crystalline rock, but was in no way remarkable.

Doubtless the goblins had a way of discovering alchemically created gold, and who wanted to live forever? Harry did it up again, and went to find Hagrid. He flicked the box into a corner, under a low windowsill.

Hagrid was trying to explain to a pair of people in red robes that Dumbledore had sent him to retrieve something he wasn't allowed to talk about, and he had accidentally pulled it out of his pocket and his charge, young Harry Potter had seen it go down the drain.

"Well, I thought it did," said Harry. Three faces swivelled to him, and Harry dropped on his knees by the drain. "OH!" he cried. "Look, Hagrid! It must have skidded on the drain cover and slid over there, under that sill!"

Hagrid turned round, fast for a big man, and gave a cry of relief. He grabbed the package and put it back in his pocket.

"Oh, thank goodness, Professor Dumbledore would have been most put out," he said.

Harry wondered why Professor Dumbledore wanted a philosopher's stone; but it was nothing to him.

He let Hagrid put him on the train to Surrey, and had a good meal in his trunk, waiting until the middle of the night to break himself out of the lost luggage room. Lost luggage rooms are designed, after all, for keeping people from breaking in. Not out.

All Harry had to do then was to wait for the earliest train back to London, use some of his muggle currency to buy a whole new wardrobe from Marks and Spencer's, and to return to the Leaky Cauldron and ask for a room until the first of September.

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The book about preparing ingredients for potions, which was not on the school list, seemed to Harry to be the most useful book of all. It explained in great detail what the differences were between slicing, dicing, chopping and cutting, and how this affected potions, and how size of pieces mattered. Harry went ahead and read all the potions books he had, Hogwarts: a History, and several books on manners and etiquette for young wizards. Vernon had lectured Dudley on the etiquette expected at an expensive public school like Smeltings, at least, expensive when compared to free state education but not in the same league as what Harry called 'real' public schools, like Eton and Harrow. He had expected the etiquette to be similar, but it was considerably more complex than that, especially for members of prominent families like ... Potter.

Another trip to Gringotts, in which he took possession as well of several pounds of muggle paper money and stowed it in his trunk, and another trip to Flourish and Blott to read about the family Potter. This necessitated another trip to Madam Malkin, for robes suitable for huge, ancient red families, as Harry absently renamed most noble, most ancient families, using the hierarchy of Dungeons and Dragons dragons.

"Logjamb, can I claim the inheritance of Voldemort by right of conquest?" asked Harry.

"I'll see what I can swing, if you make me the account manager," said Logjamb.

"I'm not paying you a knut over 5% of anything you make for me," said Harry.

"Daylight robbery, a good account manager is worth 25%" said Logjamb.

"Yes, but you're a teller awaiting promotion to account manager," said Harry, who had also been reading about goblins.

"10% then?" said Logjamb.

"8% and we have a deal, and we'll review your percentage next year, if you manage to get me his vault," said Harry.

"It's the Slytherin account, which the Gaunts never thought to claim," said Logjamb. "You should have the Peverell account automatically when you are seventeen because of your father's heritance. But they like starting up accounts that are frozen. I'll get it for you."

Logjamb enjoyed haggling with the young wizard, who participated with such enthusiasm. Harry was good at haggling; he made his stolen funds from his time at the Dursleys' go further by getting up very early on Sunday mornings, when the Dursleys slept late, to go to the nearest car boot sale, and haggling for things he wanted. The Dursleys never realised that their garden shed had a false back, behind which was a bookcase full of Harry's books. They, after all, were not the ones who used the tools in it, and had no idea that Harry had built his secret space one time when they were on holiday and had left him alone as Mrs. Figg was elsewhere at the time.

Harry grinned a goblin-like feral grin at Logjamb, who had been kind enough to show him exactly how much tooth to show in any social situation.

"May your enemies die amazed at your acumen in shafting them," he said.

"Please, Mr. Potter, outwitting, not shafting," said Logjamb.

Harry chuckled.

"Consider it suitably modified," he said.

"May your gold grow a hundredfold," returned Logjamb.

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Harry decided that polyjuice potion was out of his league at the moment, and paid an enchanter in Knockturn Alley for a ring which would change his appearance to that of a nondescript adult. He absently picked the pocket of a pickpocket working the alley just to keep in practice, and then went into muggle London to pick the pockets of some unwary young man sufficiently like the appearance he had chosen that the notoriously bad photograph on a driver's licence would be good enough. Paying the enchanter to change the address to a house in Little Whingeing which had been on the market for some years, and which was probably falling apart, was worth every knut. Bank statements would go there, and Harry had long used the place to hide from Dudley. The house was haunted, but the ghost had refused to talk to him, and Harry worked on the principle that if he didn't pester the ghost, the ghost wouldn't pester him. It was solid fists that scared him more than insubstantial ones.

Next was a bank account, in the name of the muggle, Tim Abercromby. Harry used his own handwriting, which was close enough to the illiterate looking scrawl on the man's driving licence. His writing had matured with practising using quills, as seemed to be required.

Tim Abercromby of Little Whinging had a healthy bank account, which would grow every year as Muggleborn's parents changed their money. Harry could see why purebloods disliked them, as essentially the purebloods had to subsidise them, as the goblins had not seen the possibilities of using muggle investments. He would suggest to Logjamb that any muggle money which came in to his account during the year could be invested in muggle companies like Apple, IBM and Hewlett Packard.

Harry also used some of his muggle money to buy gold jewellery. That would be saleable in the Wizarding World or the muggle world, and was portable wealth. You never knew when disposable assets might come in handy, and Harry wore a gold Rolex watch and a sovereign on a chain round his neck. He had other pieces in his trunk, which lived in his pocket, but just in case he was ever separated from his trunk, he would still have money.

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The next challenge was finding platform nine and three quarters. Harry reconnoitred King's Cross late on the evening of August 31st, and discovered exactly where to go through the barrier. The train was already there, no steam on her, but Harry went forward and chatted to the train driver, finding out his name and discovering that the steam was generated by magical fire.

"Are you allowed to carry students on the footplate?" asked Harry.

The goblin driver grinned.

"No, Mr. Potter, but if you don't mind slumming it with goblins, the coal bunker is only for show for when we go through muggle places; easier than disillusioning the whole train. It's actually a rest room for the driving team. We take turns driving, as it's a long way. I take it you don't want to be pestered with stupid questions?"

"Too right I don't. Thanks, Grindmore."

September 1st saw Harry sauntering into King's Cross station, and hiding in horror at the loud, red-haired woman complaining about muggles, and talking loudly about how to find platform nine and three quarters. Statute of secrecy fail, much? Thought Harry. The woman must be retarded as she seemed to be seeing of a boy his own age and three older ones, you'd think she'd have figured it out after the first child. The youngest was a brat who was whining that she hadn't seen Harry Potter yet. Harry slipped on his glamour ring, and walked confidently through the barrier. He saw the obnoxious boy he had spoken to in Madam Malkin's with his stuck-up looking father. Picking the pockets of robes was harder than picking muggle pockets, but not impossible in bustle. The blond man had a letter in his pocket, and Harry had no hesitation in picking it. The platform had its own toilets, and a room with a fire, which was disgorging various students, so Harry went to the toilet and read the letter.

Dear Severus,

I trust Draco will be a paradigmatic Slytherin; I know you will guide him. Be aware that I have told him to befriend Harry Potter. I know you have no liking for the spawn of James Potter, but I ask you nicely to be pleasant to the boy if Draco succeeds. If the Dark Lord returns, we will have the choice of allying with Potter, if he has some power of his own, or of using him as a bargaining chip to hand over.

Your friend,

Lucius.

Harry considered this.

Draco was rich.

He probably had an 'in' with the sort of people who could be helpful.

He was a brat, but that was immaterial. He was a brat who wanted to be friendly, which was better than a brat who wanted a punching bag. And Harry reckoned he could take Draco on any day. He sauntered out of the toilet as himself, and as Mr. Malfoy was starting to leave, Harry bent down, palming the letter, and called,

"Sir! Sir! You dropped this!" he held out the letter.

The long, elegant white hand started to snatch for the letter, then Lucius took in the scar.

"Why, Mr. Potter, isn't it? Thank you, I appreciate that. I hope you will meet up with my son, Draco; he's already aboard, I'm sure he'd love to meet you."

"Oh, I met a Draco in Madam Malkins; I am so embarrassed, I have been raised by muggles, and I did not know the proper etiquette," said Harry, shaking the shapely hand offered to him. Manicures were for posh men too, it seemed. "I hope he forgives my ignorance."

"I'm sure he will," Lucius Malfoy smiled a feral smile. "After all, it is hardly your fault, is it? I cannot think what Dumbledore was about, having you raised by muggles, of all people."

Harry shot him a look.

"Why would it be in his interests to keep me ignorant of my heritage as a wizard and a member of a prominent family?" he asked. "Unless he is senile; why would any headmaster want something like the Philosopher's Stone?"

"What?" Lucius was shocked. "My dear boy! May I call you Harry? My name is Lucius. You must write to me about this, send it to Malfoy Manor, and tell me what you know, use a school owl, as I see you have no owl yourself. I will see what I can find out. Now hurry, the train will leave in a moment."

"Thank you, Lucius, how kind of you," said Harry.

This man was a follower of the Dark Lord, aka You-Know-Who, aka He-who-must-not-be-named, aka Voldemort, aka the skanking little bastard who led to Harry living with the Dursleys. Though Lucius seemed to think that Dumbledore also had a hand in that, which was shocking. However the letter suggested more fear of the skanking little bastard than loyalty.

Who Severus might be, Harry did not know, but presumably he was at school, as he was to keep an eye on Draco.

Harry had no intention of being a pawn of dark or light. Perhaps it was time to gather his own set of pawns, and Lucius, Draco and the mysterious Severus would do for starters.

He strolled over to the engine, and a hidden door opened, and Grindmore held out a long-fingered hand to help him in. Harry looked appreciatively around the simple but comfortable room, with one way windows. A toilet was at one end, and a door to the footplate at the other.

Harry settled down.

"Ham sandwiches, anyone?" he said. "I got a pile from Marks and Sparks on the way."

Ham sandwiches went down very well.

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Harry got into robes in time to exit the train when it reached Hogsmeade. He thanked his new friends for the ride, and added regretfully that he would probably have to ride with the other students another time.

"Any time you want to escape, Harry," said Harfang, the other driver. They were all on first name terms by now.

"Thanks," said Harry.

He managed to mingle with the confused first years, and was stopped by a chubby, blondish boy.

"Did you see a toad? Trevor keeps escaping."

" _Accio_ Trevor!" said Harry. It was too good a spell to waste, even if Hagrid had been unable to cast it well. A surprised looking toad flew off the train and into his hands. Harry passed the amphibian quickly to the boy.

"Oh, thank you! I'm Neville Longbottom!"

Harry dredged out his family trees.

"Heir Longbottom? I'm Harry Potter. Good to meet you." He held out a hand; it was already sullied with toadness anyway.

"I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm the first witch in my family," said the bush haired girl with Neville.

Harry shook her hand, and said,

"I will lend you a book so you don't make the sort of etiquette mistakes I was making before I read it, when I was new to the wizarding world a few weeks ago."

Hermione frowned.

"But you're a wizard of wizarding family."

"Raised by muggles," said Harry. "And you should also know that the goblins throw away the money your parents give them as it's worthless to them, it's just to make sure they are prepared to make the sacrifice to send you. You are paid for by people like Draco Malfoy."

Hermione looked horrified.

"But ... oh! Is that why he called me 'mudblood'?"

"Yes, and if I was you, when you go home for the holidays, you should go to Gringotts and ask for a heritance test, in case you can inherit a line which has gone dead, because muggleborn come from somewhere. Now if I were you, until I can get you the book, you should keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth shut so you don't make a faux pas."

"Er, yes, I will," said Hermione. "Thanks."

Well, Longbottom were long time allies of Potter. Getting the odd muggleborn on his side wouldn't hurt. And he approached Draco.

"Heir Malfoy!" he said. "Mr. Malfoy, I would like to tender my apologies for my ignorance in Madam Malkins; I was raised by muggles, I believe Dumbledore's idea, and had no idea of proper behaviour. I am sure we can put it behind us. Harry Potter." He stuck out his hand.

"Certainly, Heir Potter, how terrible for you," said Draco.

"It was fairly grim," said Harry. "However, permit me to offer some advice. Whilst I am sure you resent paying for the muggleborn, don't you think it would be more Slytherin to advise them to have heritance tests to bring more money into the economy, and then you will have grateful vassals, as I have in the muggleborn Granger girl, if she truly proves to have got her frizzy hair from Hector Dagworth-Granger as I suspect."

"She's your vassal?"

"Not until she has a proven heritage, but she is under my protection."

"Understood."

Harry smiled, concealing the grin he had inside. He had seen Hermione in Flourish and Blott's, and had remarked to himself that having a researcher on his side would be remarkably useful. He didn't care if her blood status proved her to be a technical pureblood or not. It was enough that Draco believed that she could be.

Hagrid was calling for first years, and Harry slipped a friendly arm into Draco's and dragged him off to join Longbottom and Granger.

"Uh, my apologies for being rude, Granger," said Draco.

"Oh! I understand now why you are upset about muggleborn; it's ridiculous that the goblins cannot generate wealth by using muggle money in muggle investment," said Hermione.

"It is, rather; my father indulges in muggle investment," said Draco.

"He does?" said Harry. "I would advise investments in computer firms. They are here to stay, and can only get bigger."

"I'll pass it on," said Draco. "I take it Heir Longbottom is also under your protection, Heir Potter?"

"Harry, please, and yes, the Potters and Longbottoms have a long association, and I'm not sure what your problem is with him," said Harry.

"It's said he's a squib," said Draco. Neville quailed. "And please call me Draco."

"Draco, my friend, would he be here if he was a squib?" asked Harry.

"Well, no," said Draco.

"Heir Longbottom, why is such a thing said?" asked Harry.

"Because I took a long while to manifest my magic, not until Uncle Algie dropped me out of a window, and I managed to bounce," said Neville. "And please call me Neville."

"He did what? Is that the first time he endangered you?" asked Harry.

Neville shook his head. Harry turned to Draco.

"There! His magic has been locked away by trauma! It's a disgrace that anyone should treat children like that; you should write to your father, and suggest that he demand that such things should be outlawed."

"Yeah," said Draco, whose magic had manifested early, and could not imagine being dropped out of a window to test if he was magical, or dead.

"What house do you hope to be in?" asked Hermione.

"Malfoys go into Slytherin," said Draco.

"Now I would have thought that a truly Slytherin Slytherin would have gone into Hufflepuff to look more harmless," said Harry, lightly. "I am hoping for Hufflepuff myself, because it's said to be the house of loyalty. I think I could get Ravenclaw, but sometimes academics can be cold. I doubt Gryffindors would like someone who believes in hard work, and as my mother's magic did kill Voldemort, I would be a little nervous being in Slytherin where it's said he still has followers."

Hermione looked thoughtful at Harry's dismissal of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

"Headmaster Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, and he is a great man and very learned," she said.

"Miss Granger, does a great man leave a baby on a doorstep in the middle of the night, with only a thin blanket; a baby old enough to toddle, moreover, and with a note leaving him with relatives who hated his parents and who proved abusive? Does the same great man never check to see how those relatives kept his Saviour of the Wizarding World in a cupboard, worked him like a slave, underfed him, and hit him, and permitted their whale of a son to beat him up?"

Hermione gasped.

"Harry! Did Dumbledore do that to you?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, and I extend permission to you to use my name as you are, I think, going to be a friend."

Hermione flushed.

"And please will everyone call me Hermione," she said in a small voice. "Oh, Harry, I had understood Dumbledore to be a great man, he is the headmaster!"

"Hermione, maybe your experience of people in authority is good, that you have always been helped if you have been bullied, that no adults have ever put you down or ridiculed you." Hermione looked startled and thoughtful, and Harry went on, "My earliest memories that are not vague nightmares come from the result of the very odd actions of this headmaster you revere."

"But ... but why would he do that?"

"I don't know yet; but I spoke to Draco's father, he had dropped something which I picked up, and he said he would try to find out for me. Your father was very gracious, Draco," added Harry.

"My father is a good friend to have, and a bad enemy. He does not trust the headmaster," said Draco.

"I'll tell the three of you some more strange things, when we can get together to talk," said Harry, as they were ushered into the great hall. Hermione silently marvelled at the ceiling, but wisely did not tell those who had likely also read 'Hogwarts: a History' about it. She was too shocked about being beholden to Draco and his ilk.

Duly she went into Hufflepuff, to the shock of Madam McGonagall, who had thought so forthright a girl was likely to be one of her lions; for Neville Longbottom to do so too was less of a surprise. When Draco Malfoy had the hat on his head for nearly a full minute before it declared,

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the whole of the staff gasped, and Severus Snape almost passed out.

Harry sat on the stool.

"You'd do well in Slytherin, you know," said the hat. "And a fine prank on your friends."

"That would be most disloyal to them," said Harry. "Such loyalty to me must mean loyalty in return. Besides, how much more Slytherin can you get than a snake in polyjuice in a Badger sett?"

"Better be HUFFLEPUFF then," said the hat.

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The headmaster's extraordinary speech was enough to distract Harry from his sharp headache.

"Who is the dark haired teacher?" he asked.

"That's Severus Snape; he teaches potions and is head of Slytherin," said Draco. "He's my godfather."

"Is that why he's glaring, because I stole you to be my friend?" asked Harry.

"I think he's puzzled, not glaring," said Draco.

"You can explain to him later that the headmaster is hiding dangerous artefacts in the school," said Harry.

"He what?"

"We need somewhere private, and I want to send an owl to your father, why don't the four of us meet before breakfast and go to the owl loft?"

Draco paled.

"I need to send an owl to my father to tell him why I'm in Hufflepuff," he said.

"I'm sure he'll be very proud that you placed the cunning use of friendship above expectation," said Harry.

"I hope so," said Draco. "Yes, he will. My father believes in grabbing any chance possible, and we are also in the house of the niece of the DMLE, which is Amelia Bones."

Harry frowned, and raised his voice.

"Heir Bones, to whom should I report a serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Heir Potter, if you'd like to tell me about it, I can write informally to my aunt and see if any action needs to be taken."

"Brilliant!" Harry gave her a blinding smile. "I was approaching the platform and this scarily loud red-haired family were there shouting about too many muggles and the woman must be retarded or something, as she had older boys with her, and still couldn't remember the number of the platform, and told the children loudly how to get through the barrier."

"Merlin's bedsocks! That's a serious breach," said Susan. "Sounds like the Weasleys. They are rather loud."

"Well, I leave it in your capable hands, Heir Bones," said Harry.

"Susan, please."

"And you must call me Harry," Harry leaned over to lightly take her hand and kiss the air above it. He had learned most of that bit of etiquette from the film 'The Three Musketeers', which he had watched one time the Dursleys were away. He had already designated Hermione as Porthos, more for her attitude than her size, Malfoy as Aramis, and Neville as the brooding Athos.

He had no intention of collecting any Kitty, Milady or Constance.

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Next morning, whilst sending off his findings to Lucius, Harry told the others about the philosopher's stone. Of course he did not mention having stolen it, only that Hagrid had lost it, and had thought it down the drain, and had attempted to summon it.

"My father will be horrified that some kind of dangerous trap is in a school to conceal such a thing," said Draco. "Why, Dumbledore made it sound like some kind of challenge to overcome, more than a real chance of death!"

"Why would he do that?" wondered Hermione.

"S ... same reason he left Harry with abusive muggles; to test him," said Neville. "Draco, I wasn't going to trust you, because your aunt, Bellatrix, is responsible for torturing my parents into insensibility, but you came into Hufflepuff to support Harry, and you're up for helping us by getting your dad to help you help him. I'm sorry I was suspicious. I suggest a tentative alliance of House Malfoy with Houses Longbottom and Potter." He put out his hand. Draco shook it.

"My father is afraid of the Dark Lord coming back," he said, in a rush. "He made a mistake in following him, he and Professor Snape want to help Harry to overcome him. There's some kind of prophecy."

Harry groaned.

"Really? A prophecy? Most prophecies are self-fulfilling."

"Maybe real magical ones are real," said Hermione.

"Most of them are bunk," said Draco, "But the Dark Lord believed in it, so he's going to act on it regardless."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we act on the prophecy. Am I allowed to grow up first?"

"Not in Dumbledore's estimation, I don't think," said Draco, grimly. "I say, I do like our fellow badgers; in Slytherin you always have to be on your guard and not give away secrets. I ... it goes against the grain, but I think you might want to share this with more of the sett."

Harry considered.

"Do you think Dumbledore has gone dark in his use of dodgy means to justify the end of defeating Voldemort?"

"I don't know, but if we are up against two powerful, scary dark lords, you'd better grow up to be spectacular, Harry," said Draco.

"I think that's why I need good friends," said Harry.

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The magnificent eagle owl brought a letter to Draco, which had a second letter inside it, which Draco slipped to Harry under the table.

"Dad wrote not to let anyone, especially Dumbledore, see he was corresponding with you; and Aquila is a bit distinctive," said Draco. Harry opened the letter.

Dear Harry,

I have discovered that Dumbledore sealed your parents' will, and assumed magical guardianship. I have discovered that your sworn godfather, who was not a Death Eater, was imprisoned without a trial. As he is my wife's cousin, I am going to enquire into this and see if we can get him a trial in case he was tortured into revealing your parents' whereabouts to betray them. A magical guardian appointed to a magical orphan is supposed to check on them once a year at least, and help them to prepare for their entry into the wizarding world as befits their status. Patently, Albus Dumbledore has not done this, so do not be surprised if you receive a visit from Wizarding Child Services. There are only two of them in the department; most wizarding children are cared for by their relatives. My wife, Narcissa, for example, is your cousin in a close degree, since your grandmother was Dorea Black before she married Charlus Potter. You and Draco are cousins, and could have grown up together. My wife's younger sister is even married to a muggleborn [and Narcissa is going to ask Andromeda to see if Theodore Tonks is eligible to open a sealed vault] and would have exposed you to the muggle world if that had been somehow important."

Draco had written enthusiastically to his parents about Harry's theory that the so-called mudblood might have squib blood, and the politician inside Lucius had him urging Narcissa to resume relations with Andromeda to test out the theory with Ted Tonks. It did not hurt that Andromeda's daughter was in Hufflepuff house, and what a bold move of Draco's that had been! Nobody else courted the mudbloods, Lucius thought. Death Eaters despised them, and with some good reason, if they were, truly, spontaneous mutations, as mutations were notoriously unstable in the heritance. Dumbledore supported them vocally, but not practically. If there were those who truly did belong in the magical world, it changed all the equations.

And gave him, Lucius, a potentially very solid political base of supporters and wand-fodder against the Dark Lord.

He concluded his letter,

"You are right to be concerned about Dumbledore's actions. I have also written to Nicholas Flamel, to ask if it is truly his intention to permit Dumbledore to entrust the Stone to an oaf who almost lost it down the drain, and then to hide it in a school full of children with a throwaway phrase which sounds calculated to egg the courageous on to investigate. Do not forget, Harry, that both your parents were in Gryffindor, and the old fool may have expected you to respond to stories about them from the gamekeeper so that you went there as well. I applaud your very Slytherin move to both hide in Hufflepuff, and to manipulate my son into joining you. I would not be permitted by Dumbledore to adopt you, but believe me, Narcissa and I are so impressed by you that we wish we could.

Your loving uncle [never call me uncle] Lucius."

Harry had tears in his eyes.

"Harry?" Draco was concerned.

"Draco, your dad said that if he wasn't likely to be blocked by Dumbledore, he would have liked to have adopted me," said Harry. "He said we are cousins and we could have grown up like brothers."

"That would have been awesome!" said Draco.

"My grandmother's mother was a Black too; I'm a cousin," said Neville, timidly.

"Wow," said Harry. "Suddenly, I have family, real family."

"I wish I was your cousin, Harry," said Hermione.

"I know what," said Harry. "I read about being blood-brothers; why don't we all slit our hands and mingle blood and we'll all be brothers? And sister," he added. "But you're as good as a brother."

"Thanks, I think," said Hermione.

Draco's eyes were wide.

"Blood magic? That's bold!" he whispered.

"Can't let Susan know that part, it's against the law," said Neville.

Harry stared.

"You mean it has real magical significance not just an oath?"

"An oath has real magical significance," said Draco.

"I'm still missing things I should have been taught by Bumblebee," grumbled Harry.

"I say we go ahead and damn the law," said Neville.

"Spoken like a Gryffindor," teased Draco.

"Spoken like a Hufflepuff wanting to protect Harry," retorted Neville. "But I think we need to tell Madam Sprout about Dumbledore."

"I agree; she seems a parent figure we can trust," said Hermione.

Draco hesitated; and nodded. His father was trusting him to choose his friends as seemed good, and to make allies outside of those the Malfoy family usually chose, and to ally with House Potter. His father's praise for being sneaky enough to infiltrate Hufflepuff was heady, also with the adjuration to seek out his cousin Nymphadora.

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Harry asked to see his head of house, with all the firsties and his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks. Pomona Sprout was intrigued.

It was not Harry who spoke first.

"There's a plot against Harry, and Dumbledore has gone dark," said Draco.

Pomona blinked. Draco Malfoy was the last person she would have suspected to have worried about people going dark, but he was speaking up for Harry Potter of all people, and he, the muggleborn girl, Harry and the Longbottom heir were all holding hands. The Granger girl squeezed Draco's hand encouragingly.

Had Pomona known that those held hands all bore thin white scars, and the four children were still recovering from the heady effects of a sudden soul connection she might have found it less sweet and more worrying, but the blood-bonding had been a quiet, private thing, all of them jammed into one stall in a boys' bathroom, so they could drip down the stool to hide evidence, and rely on Hermione having researched a healing spell.

"I find it hard to consider Dumbledore going dark," said Pomona, "I think you may have misheard or misunderstood something, but tell me your concerns. Are you sure you want the whole first year here as well as your cousin Dora, Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am; because we are all Badgers, and Badgers hang together. Draco says Slytherin work almost the same, but they also work against each other inside the snake pit, so Badgers are stronger."

"Well reasoned, Mr. Potter," Pomona smiled. Apparently these children had understood that their unlikely friendship needed the strength of the badger to flourish.

"It began with me being left on the doorstep the day after my parents died," said Harry. "Mr. Malfoy is talking to wizarding child services about my childhood, so hopefully I will never have to go back to my so-called relatives." He explained, emotionlessly, about the abuse, really feeling for the first time that he was entitled to ask for help, the bond of his bloodsiblings urging him to share and leave nothing out, Draco was holding his right hand, Neville his left, and Hermione with her arms around his waist. Harry was a person, he was not 'freak' or 'boy', he was loved, he was wanted. He would not be punished for telling, and he stumbled through telling Pomona that as well.

He got a hug from her, too, and awkward pats on the back from the other firsties.

"My father is powerful in the muggle world," said Justin. "I reckon he can get something done, too."

"My dad is a lawyer in both worlds," said Dora Tonks. "He can talk to your dad, Justin.

"My parents are dentists and are trained to see abuse in children, like doctors are," said Hermione. "If anyone needs a medical muggle assessment."

"Harry will have a full check up by Madam Pomfrey," said Pomona. "And we can have that put into muggle terms if need be for the muggle courts. I have all my badgers checked over in the first week anyway, all the firsties, and any others I suspect of coming back less than whole from holidays. I know Severus does the same thing for his Snakes; dear me, we seem to have more of an affinity with Slytherin than I had realised."

"Loyalty can come in more than one shape, I guess, ma'am," said Draco.

"You may have a good point there, Mr. Malfoy," said Pomona. "But carelessness and a failure to check on Harry, which is reprehensible, isn't necessarily a sign of going dark."

"Oh, that's just the preliminary," said Harry. "I have good reason to start suspecting that being abused was a way of isolating me so that I could be manipulated. When my sworn godfather was put in prison without a trial, and the man Hagrid tells me was close to my parents is chief warlock in the Wizengamot, I smell fish. Not to mention all the business of the Philosopher's Stone."

"What do you know about that?" demanded Pomona, sharply.

"I know that Hagrid got it out of Gringotts when he took me to get my supplies, when he was also briefed to hurry me round and make sure I only got books on my book list so I didn't find out who I am in the wizarding world," said Harry, quietly. "When Hagrid dropped the thing, and thought it was down the drain, he attempted to summon it, and named it. I did some research. Why is that thing hidden in a school full of children, and why are we told that it's hidden in a corridor where certain death awaits, while the headmaster's eyes twinkle as though that is just a joke? Don't you think that would make bolder children investigate? And if he's been a teacher and headmaster for aeons, he ought to know that, and I bet he does. He wants to test people, and it may be paranoid, but I think he wants to test me."

"Dear me," said Madam Sprout. "I ... I am not sure what to say. He certainly showed what I consider to be an unwholesome amount of attention to you, over my other new badgers, Mr. Potter. Asked me if I would try not to be too strict if you were out after curfew. I told him I would be as strict as I would with any badger."

"How strict is that?" asked Draco, interested.

"Oh, a bit of judicious rule breaking never hurts anyone, so long as there is no danger involved. I have a magical map of the castle tied to the wards in my office, so I know exactly where all my badgers are, and if they are in danger, I go and retrieve them. Unless it is danger of being caught by Mr. Filch, when they probably deserve any detention he gives. Badgers can be ruthless at need, you know."

"Oh my," said Hermione, almost salivating at the complex magic that implied. All her new brothers cuffed her across the back of the head with two fingers as she opened her mouth to release a barrage of questions.

"Runes, my dear," said Pomona. Hermione's eyes gleamed.

"We think that the headmaster has become obsessed by the idea that if Harry sort of accidentally killed V-Voldemort when he was a baby, he has some sort of immunity to him and is destined to kill him, and needs to be turned into a weapon," said Draco. "My godfather, Professor Snape, overheard part of a prophecy, and ... and he revealed it to Voldemort. I am pretty sure he thought it was a joke, but it's why Voldemort went after Harry's parents. I don't know more than that. But as Divination is taught here, Dumbledore must take prophecies seriously, right? Or he'd institute something more sensible like Alchemy instead, as he is a Master Alchemist."

"I cannot fault your reasoning, Mr. Malfoy," said Pomona. "I am profoundly shocked by what has happened to you, Mr. Potter, and I will try to get to the bottom of it. I am going to take you to the hospital wing right away, and we shall see what we see. If you three want to be the first batch checked over, you may stay with him. I suspect your words hold more truth than you think, Mr. Malfoy, and it is obsession rather than darkness. Our headmaster is more inclined to do things for what he calls 'the greater good' than for the common weal of his students, I fear. I've had occasion to complain before that redemption only comes after punishment and repentance, and forgiveness without consequences leads people further into darkness, leaving victims the only ones punished, but he will not see it."

"Is he senile?" asked Hermione.

"I cannot say that he has changed in the last forty years that I recall," said Pomona. "Now, to the hospital with you."

The other young badgers were hustled out, speculating if Dumbledore was indeed dark, or merely obsessed.

"And he did run a renegade vigilante group in the last war," Harry heard Susan's clear voice saying, "And vigilantes can be almost as dark as those they go after, citing that the ends justify the means, which is pretty close to 'for the greater good', after all."

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Having delivered the children to Poppy Pomfrey, Pomona went in search of Severus Snape. She flooed his office.

"Pomona, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Is Draco howling for his godfather?" Severus sneered slightly.

"Mr. Malfoy may be a little spoilt, but he brought to my attention something I think I need your help with," said Pomona. "Would you mind coming through?"

Severus came through, warily.

Pomona poured him, and herself, a firewhisky, and Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I am waiting for a full report from Poppy Pomfrey on the many injuries and probable malnutrition of Harry Potter," said Pomona.

"Harry Potter? If he's told you he's malnourished, he's lying for attention, just like his father," scoffed Severus.

"Severus, he's smaller than Draco, who is slight, as all the Malfoys are at his age, due to their fae blood," said Pomona. "I saw what was under his shirt when he stripped for Poppy. I can count his ribs, he has the pot belly of the start of starvation, and some of the marks on his back wrap around to his front. You know about those sorts of marks, don't you? Poppy talks in her sleep, you know, when she's upset."

Severus shuddered.

"Dumbledore assured me he was living with relatives being treated like a little prince," he said.

"How is he going to know that? Harry has never even met Albus, other than having been told he was left on the doorstep by him one cold November evening," said Pomona. "I will not have him going back to the Dursleys."

Severus stared.

"I ... didn't Petunia marry a man called Dursley?"

"He mentioned Aunt Petunia, belabouring him over the head with a frying pan when he was four because he burned breakfast when she first told him to cook for them," said Pomona.

Severus downed his firewhisky in a gulp.

"Don't take it up with the headmaster yet," he said. "He's a legilimens and he's not averse to obliviating people who go against him."

"I know," said Pomona. "I found that out the first time I complained to him about Sirius Black and James Potter bullying one of my badgers, and I wouldn't let it go. The child in question was very upset that I didn't even seem to remember the complaint. Poppy got my memory back, and she keeps her files hidden under fidelius because he removes some files. She backs up her memory every day by storing her memories in a pensieve we bought between us, in case he comes into the hospital and catches her unawares. When I go to see him, I will take out my memories, view them, and then he can obliviate my memories of viewing my memories and I can put the real ones back. I've done it many times. I think Draco's assertion that the headmaster is going dark might not be far off the truth."

"I can't act against him; he has me by the dark mark," said Severus, bitterly. "And who else is there?"

"I suspect, one day, there will be Harry Potter," said Pomona. "I gather there is a prophecy."

"I don't know the whole of it," said Severus.

"Harry reckons that if two nasty, reckless old men believe in it, it doesn't matter what the substance of it is, as they'll make up whatever twaddle they want to believe as the interpretation," said Pomona.

"Well he has his head screwed on fairly well, despite the abuse," said Severus.

"Go to Amelia Bones. Ask for veritaserum, after a purging potion, to prove you have no antidote in you, and swear on your magic you are not a death eater any more," said Pomona. "That will free you from gratitude to Albus. Your old friend, Lucius, seems to be supporting Harry."

Severus made a noncommittal noise; the letter had suggested handing Harry over as an alternative.

"I need to speak to Lucius," he said.

"You do. And I will report Poppy's findings on Harry to Dumbledore, with righteous indignation and insist that something is done. If he is innocent of the charges Draco, Neville, Hermione and Harry made of deliberately endangering Harry, he will seek an alternate place for Harry. If he did deliberately put him somewhere to break his will, then he will obliviate me, and when I restore my memories, I will know."

"The problem is that he believes it is all for the best in the long run," said Severus. "I would have liked a little more protection when I was at school, from the bullies and from my father."

"I know, dear, and I am so sorry you never had a supportive House Head. Horace was as much use as a cheese cauldron to anyone he couldn't use to further his social rise."

"And I suppose at least he wasn't racist, but he was no use to me, until he belatedly realised my abilities. And then, I wasn't going to go to him anyway."

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"We need to befriend Mr. Filch," said Harry.

"You said what?" asked Draco.

"If we are left to our own curfew breaking save if caught by Mr. Filch, we need to make sure he looks on us favourably," said Harry. "I vote we get him chocolate cauldrons – they're really yummy, Draco, thanks for sharing your care package – and catnip treats for Mrs. Norris, and say that we've heard stories about our fathers being badly behaved, and wanted to say sorry, and start again with a new generation."

"He'll think they are poisoned."

"Then we can tell him to take them to any teacher to check out," said Harry. "And we should show up on Saturday mornings to give him an hour of work."

"What, work like house elves?" said Draco.

"What are house elves?" asked Hermione.

"They're a race of beings tied to wizards, who do cooking and cleaning and things, and they like to clean, and please stop vibrating in outrage, Hermione, and understand that they like doing it; like you like reading. Crabbe and Goyle, who I was expecting to be in Slytherin with, consider reading akin to being put into slavery. Not all people like the same things. All old families have elves bonded to them."

"But it can be abused," whined Hermione.

"Of course it can," said Draco. "But house elves are scared of freedom in case their magic diminishes outside of a bond to a wizard, or witch, and they die."

Harry gasped.

"Do you suppose there are Potter house elves?" he asked. "If they haven't been with me, they might die!"

"Oh, Harry, how awful! They shouldn't be in such a situation!" said Hermione.

"I'd never really thought about it," said Neville.

"Fine, they shouldn't be in such a situation, but unless you can research the tie, and find out what it is and how they can keep their magic without a tie, leave it as it is," said Draco. "You'd better call the Potter elves, Harry. They'd probably be able to recharge their magic by helping us help Filch," he added.

Harry called,

"Potter elves!"

Four elves popped out of nowhere, and started sobbing, and kissing Harry's hands and feet.

"Master Henry wants us at last!" crooned an elderly female.

"Wait, my name is really Henry?" said Harry.

"Yes, sir, Master Henry, didn't youse know?" she asked. "Lally was Master Henry's nursemaid."

"So I could have been cared for by elves? Not sent to live with muggles? I never even knew I had elves until I suddenly wondered about it," said Harry. "And I've always been called Harry. At least, once I found out my name wasn't 'Freak'."

"It's not right that one of the Seven should live with muggles," said Lally, crossly. "What muggles is these?"

"My mother's sister Petunia and her family," said Harry.

"That no-good wretch? You won't live with her no more, Master Henry will call for Lally in the holidays and we can pop to Potter Manor, which is warded better than no muggles can be, and why Master James and Mistress Lily let themselves be persuaded to leave it for some half-baked fidelius, Lally doesn't know. That Dumbledore is an old fool."

"He left me with the Dursleys," said Harry.

"Master Henry won't have to worry any more. Does Master Henry need anything more?"

"Er, not at the moment, thanks, Lally; Draco told me all old families would have elves, so I wanted to see if you were all right. I never knew," said Harry.

"Master Henry cares!" squeaked one of the other elves.

"Why are all these little masters and mistress of your blood?" asked Lally.

"We swore a pact as blood brothers, as I have no close family," said Harry.

"Is it the will of the head of the family that they can call us?" said one of the others.

"Yes, but if they ask you to do something you don't want to do, you can refuse," said Harry. "And you can argue with me if you think I'm telling you to do something wrong or silly."

"Master Henry is a great master," said Lally.

They popped away.

"I think we just found out that we are now members of House Potter," said Neville.

"Well even if Hermione isn't a Dagworth-Granger, that gives her status," said Draco, nodding to Hermione.

"EEP, that means I own house elves, sort of, and I don't like it," said Hermione.

"Call Lally some time and ask her about it; she doesn't sound very slave like," said Harry.

"I might do that," said Hermione. "Let's pool our money to get Mr. Filch a peace offering."

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Argus Filch was a suspicious man, and when he received chocolates and cat treats as a gift, with a signed letter, he did do as suggested, and took it to Severus Snape to test.

"It's all good, Argus," said Severus, wondering what the little hellions were up to.

Harry and Draco also had cat nip in their shoes, and had doctored Neville's and Hermione's; there was an unspoken understanding between the closer scions of House Black that the relative innocence of their friends should be preserved.

Mrs. Norris liked nip, and the four went out of their way to pet her, and find the sweet spot on her spine and the good place behind each ear, reducing her to ecstatic love.

Draco had explained how a kneazle for a squib was the same as a guide dog for a blind man, and Hermione presented the theory that if house elves got their life force and magic from being around wizards, kneazles might do so too, and Mrs. Norris might be ratty because only her squib cosseted her, not wizards.

Fussing Mrs. Norris was by way of an experiment to test this, as well as being self preservation. Harry, besides, liked cats, even the crazy cats of his crazy neighbour. Cats knew how to take their ease and enjoy life when they could, and were independent.

Meanwhile classes had been a mixed bag. Transfiguration was hard, and only Hermione earned points. Charms was interesting, and Harry was looking forward to practicals. Potions was potentially the best class ever; Professor Snape fixed Harry with a gimlet glare, but it did not hurt his head, so Harry beamed at him, an expression he had discovered disconcerted most antagonistic teachers into submission, and got on with things. The potion master's introduction in his low, beautiful and carrying voice was captivating.

Harry worked with Neville, and as all of them had read Harry's supplemental books, they all knew about preparing things.

Snape descended on a hapless Ravenclaw.

"Miss Patil," he said, in a dangerously silky tone, "I trust that you are not like your sister, whose sole interest in potions appears to be in brewing beauty products and love potions?"

"N...no sir," stammered Padma.

"Good. However, I am astounded that a Ravenclaw, of pure blood status can fail to have discovered how to chop and slice ingredients, when a muggleborn who does not have your apparent advantages is busy producing a near perfect potion over on the Hufflepuff tables," Snape sneered. "Even our muggle-raised _celebrity_ appears to have the idea. I suggest that anyone whose idea of cutting up ingredients involves _good enough_ is not _good enough_ for this class. Those people whose potions I am about to vanish will have no grade for this lesson and you may get out now and begin the first part of your supplemental homework of discovering why you have made a mess of preparing your ingredients. Homework will be in addition to this for those who cannot be bothered to prepare, and will consist of 6 inches on which additions to your potions need extra care, what extra care, and why."

Several Ravenclaws, Ernie and Justin were dispatched sobbing. Susan and Hannah, working together, had just managed a brew which passed.

"We need to help Ernie and Justin," Hermione whispered to Draco.

Draco hid a grimace, but nodded.

Badgers stuck together. And Badgers paid off their debts willingly, and without finding escape clauses. The sett was a lot more restful than the snake pit, but Draco was scared of losing his edge.

Then he had his brainwave, and it would help the other badgers too.

As Quirrel was a joke, and he _did_ make Harry's head hurt, they would practice jinxing each other and trying to catch each other unawares, to improve situational awareness, dodging, and shielding.

As for History of Magic, the 'Puffs soon realised that Binns had no idea if they were there or not, and cast lots for who was to prepare a chapter to lecture on for which week, and took their History of Magic in an unused classroom. Justin also mentioned a muggle game called 'Warhammer' and they sent for whole armies of orcs, for goblins, and high elves, for mages, to paint up and refight the goblin rebellions in sand boxes. This soon needed another abandoned classroom just to itself, and evenings might see sundry Hufflepuffs from other years as well painting figures for their armies. Hufflepuff had a new hobby, and the Warhammer rules worked well enough for them.

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Meanwhile Pomona bearded Albus Dumbledore in his office.

"What can I do for you, Pomona? Lemon sherbert?" asked the headmaster.

"You know I don't touch them," said Pomona. "Albus, I have come across the worst case of abuse I think I have ever seen."

"The Malfoy boy?" asked Dumbledore.

"No, he's had a stern but fair upbringing," said Pomona. "Unlike Harry Potter, who came within a hair's breadth of turning up at school a squib for the damage to his core for having to force his magic to heal beatings and injuries inflicted on him by his cousin which were not taken to muggle medical authorities."

"Come, Pomona, surely you exaggerate, boys will be boys, and they will jostle and fight."

"If you think me so stupid that I can't tell the difference between a bit of fighting and systematic torturing, why am I teaching?" asked Pomona. "A bit of fighting does not produce repeated rotational fractures, broken ribs, a punctured lung, belt buckle shaped scars on back, buttocks, sides and thighs, and signs of healed kidney damage so severe from a kicking by his cousin that had not Harry been a wizard, his cousin would probably have been a murderer."

"Why, then, it is as well Harry is a wizard, his cousin would have been devastated to have accidentally killed his playmate."

"Albus, they are not playmates. Dudley Dursley deliberately hurts Harry. The aunt and uncle hit him about casually, and belittle him, which would have been bad enough without the violence. He is suffering from malnutrition of the kind usually only seen in Africa. His core has been damaged because some idiot had put an illegal block on it, which means he had a harder time healing himself. This is not a joke, Albus, this boy could die if he goes back there."

"He has to go back there, Pomona; his mother sacrificed herself for him, and he has to live where her blood runs. I set up blood wards to keep him from the followers of Voldemort."

"It wouldn't help if he's already dead when his core does fail him," said Pomona.

"I think you under estimate Harry's resilience," Dumbledore twinkled.

"Harry also tells me that you have never checked on him, and nobody told him about the wizarding world until Hagrid turned up," said Pomona.

"He needed to have a normal childhood, without being bothered by his fame," said Dumbledore.

"If you consider being used as a punching bag and treated as a house elf a normal childhood, I have to wonder if you're losing your marbles," said Pomona. "He cannot go back there, and I think child services should be involved, and Poppy agrees with me. Albus, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, my dear, but it serves the best purpose for Harry to continue to be tested," said Dumbldore. " _Obliviate!"_

0000

Pomona restored the memories of why she was going to see Albus, which also enabled her to retrieve the recording paper she had worn under her robes which was enchanted to act like a dictaquill.

"I'm going to kill him," said Pomona.

She gave Albus enough time to go to the hospital wing, and helped Poppy retrieve her memories.

"Why didn't you tell him we'd already filed a report with child services?" asked Poppy.

"I wanted to see if he would reveal anything damning when I spoke to him, which he would expect to obliviate," said Pomona. "You can give me the potion to regain the actual memory now; but here's the transcript."

"I think we have enough to go to the DMLE," said Poppy.

"He'll sleaze out of it, and double talk the wizengamot," sighed Pomona. "At least we are keeping our own bodies clear of compulsion draughts and spells and ... I wonder if Severus has any kind of curse on him to hate anyone who looks like James Potter?"

"Good job Harry looks more like Lily, without glasses," said Poppy. "He told me it's called contact lenses and he got them in the muggle world."

"Dear me, muggles can be very inventive," said Pomona. "Leave it to me. I will make sure Albus does not feel like interfering with Harry's life."

"How do you do that?"

"Best you have plausible deniability my love; just remember, do not irritate a herbologist."

It was a sentiment Harry would have repeated, as he diligently begged cuttings of all the plants which could cause his relatives the grossest rashes and boils.

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The whole of Hufflepuff first year turned out to help Argus Filch, which was gratifying to that sour old man.

"Have you asked Professor Snape to teach you some handy potions?" asked Draco. "I know most squibs can manage potions, and maybe you could learn some runes, because they can be activated with lower amounts of magic."

Filch peered with rheumy eyes to see if the Malfoy brat was playing games to wind him up, so they could laugh at him later if he tried, but Mrs. Norris was currently lying in the blond boy's lap, purring, which she did not do if someone had ill intent towards him.

"Nuthin' wrong in askin'," he said. "I don't know when Mrs. Norris took such a shine to anyone like she have to you four; or even to you other four," he nodded to the rest of the year.

"She's a clever girl," crooned Harry, cautiously doing Mrs. Norris' tummy. This was an acceptable activity up to the point that Mrs. Norris got tired of it, when she went from semi-liquid puddle of pleasure to spinning ninja attack weapon over about half a second. One had about five seconds to read the likelihood of a mood change.

"Ar, and you ain't like them hellions in Griffindor," said Filch. The 'Puffs shuddered. Most of them had encountered the rudeness of Ronald Weasley, the vapid stupidity of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, and the lack of etiquette of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Hermione was very glad she had not followed her inclination to go into Gryffindor, none of them had any manners, and none of them would have gently and kindly explained that trying to turn her arm into a sky hook was bad form, rude to teacher and classmates alike, and downright disloyal to her friends. And Professor Snape had kindly explained to her that she was not writing essays for extra credit, but to learn how to get facts on a given subject, and a given subject only, into a succinct form, for ease of reading, and that most teachers would dock marks for any amount over the specified length. She flushed when he pointed out that if all students wrote twice as much as they had been asked for, and the professors marked it, there would be no lessons for a couple of weeks at a time as the professors caught up with the marking and did not have time to teach. It brought it home to her that teachers were people too, and essays were not somehow magically marked.

The Hufflepuffs then felt a need to break out in mischief, so Justin and Hermione introduced them to the concept of Monty Python, and they all went into dinner in hooded cloaks carrying their potion texts, chanting,

" _Pie Jesu Domine,_

 _Dona eis requiem"_ and hitting themselves on the head with their potions texts after each line. They solemnly processed up to the staff table, knelt in front of Snape, and intoned,

"A-aaaaaameeeen" before getting up, genuflecting, and filing back to their own places in silence.

"Bless my soul," said Dumbledore.

"I think the Hufflepuff first years have too much time on their hands," said Snape, too stunned to think of giving detention for what was not meant as ridicule, but a kind of respect, as he had read in the eyes of Draco and Potter when they knelt before him.

He shrugged.

Least said soonest mended.

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And then there was Halloween, and the Puff firsties petitioned Madam Sprout to hold a vigil of Samhain in their own common room, with food from the feast served to them, so Harry would not have to see people making jollity over a day of mourning for him.

Pomona did not bother to tell Dumbledore about this, until he asked where Harry was.

"Albus, your interest in that one boy of all of my badgers who are not present is most disturbing," said Pomona. "I gave the firsties permission to hold a vigil for the Potters."

"I gave orders for everyone to be at the feast," said Dumbledore, petulantly.

"Which you've never done before; had you forgotten the boy was bereaved on this day, or are you merely sadistic?" asked Pomona. "Severus is missing a young snake, too, Millicent Bulstrode. Is she also bereaved, Severus?"

"I'm not sure; I should have found out," said Severus.

"I am sure she has her own business," said Dumbledore, as Severus rose.

"And yet you are ready to raise cain because Harry Potter is missing?" sneered Severus. He had been shocked when Poppy had indeed found an aversion charm on him. "I am going to see if Miss Bullstrode is all right."

It was at this moment that Quirrel burst into the great hall with his news. Snape shouted,

"Snakes, stay put!" before leaving the room in even more hurry.

The Hufflepuff firsties missed all the commotion, but Theo Nott told Draco next day that Millie Bulstrode had been crying in a toilet because Ron Weasley had been so nasty to her, and was not expected to gain consciousness.

"Poor Millie, she's a decent kid," said Draco.

The others nodded; Millicent and Theo often studied with the Puffs in the library, neither of them fitting in with the other Slytherin.

"We have to do something," said Hermione. "We exploded that pillow because all of us lifting it at once with the blood-bond overpowered it, surely we can do something with healing?"

"We don't know enough," said Neville, sadly.

"One day we'll heal your parents with it," said Harry, "Shoot me down in flames, if I'm barking up the wrong tree, but can we share blood with her?"

"Well it can't hurt," said Draco.

They scooted up to the infirmary.

"What are you kids up to?" asked Poppy.

"Millie's a friend of mine, out of school. We wanted to sit with her," said Draco.

Poppy sniffed.

"That's more than her own housemates have done," she said. "It can't do any harm."

Millicent was a big boned girl, carrying a lot of puppy fat at the moment, and with heavy, straight brows. She was making unhealthy sounding snoring noises.

They waited for Pomfrey to bustle off and then by general consent, Harry and Hermione slit their palms first, and Millicent's, as the other two pumped in power. Harry had healed many of his own wounds, including head wounds so he let himself feel Millicent's core as their blood mingled. Then Draco and Neville added their blood, and all healed except Harry, who was the focus. He had no idea that he glowed, as Neville later described it, like a phoenix.

And Millicent coughed, opened her eyes, and sat up.

"Don't try yet," said Hermione, pushing her down.

There was a strangled gasp behind them, and the preteens turned to see a solid looking man who had to be Millicent's father, and a woman better described as handsome than pretty, who was her mother.

Draco rose, slightly precariously, and bowed.

"Mr. Bulstrode, Madam Bulstrode."

"Poppy, you said there was no hope," said Bulstrode.

"There isn't ... oh!" Poppy put her hands to her face. "You naughty children! Have you used blood magic?"

"Madam Pomfrey, I can only heal when I am attached to the core, as I healed myself," said Harry. "And I'd rather take any punishment than fail to save a life when I can." _Any life that is of value to a friend of mine, anyway,_ he thought. _I wouldn't have bothered for Ronald Weasley, or Pansy Parkinson, but Draco really cares."_

"Oh Harry! You have no idea what you have done," said Pomfrey. "You and Miss Bulstrode are now soul-joined and will never be happy married to anyone else."

"Oh well, if we are soul joined, I expect we'll be happy about it," said Harry, wondering if this meant that Hermione and Millie had to share the rest of them.

"Millicent owes you a life debt," said Mr. Bulstrode. He looked shrewdly at bloody palms. "All of you."

"It wasn't right, what that Weasley fellow did," said Draco. "Making her cry so much she was stuck in the bathroom when the troll came along."

"Troll? What troll? Dumbledore said she had suffered an accident. And what about this Weasley making her cry?" said Mrs. Bulstrode.

"We missed it or we might have rescued her," said Draco, and told Millie's parents what had happened.

"I'll accident that twinkling old buffoon," roared Mr. Bulstrode.

"Hush, daddy," said Millicent, wincing.

"Sorry, petal," said Mr. Bulstrode.

"Are you going to challenge Weasley to a duel for nearly killing your betrothed, Harry?" asked Draco.

"Are you kidding? Why should I honour him with a duel? I'm going to introduce him to herbology as he has never known it before," said Harry.

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By common consent, nothing was said to Dumbledore about blood magic; only that Harry had an unexpected gift for healing. And Madam Pomfrey had every intention of drilling him ruthlessly in the healing arts to make that true.

Dumbledore was glad, of course, that Millicent had survived, though he was less pleased to have Torquil and Amanita Bulstrode tearing him a new one, and informing him that they would be demanding sanctions from the Weasleys. Claims that it was just words spoken in jest fell on deaf ears.

"He called our daughter a troll born of a hag and a bugbear!" howled Mr. Bulstrode. "That's bullying! You don't have any policy on bullying except to feed your Gryffindor bullies tea and cakes!"

This was a little too close to the truth to be comfortable, and Albus was glad when he got rid of the angry Bulstrodes. Had they not been pure bloods, trained from childhood in occlumensy, he would have obliviated them. And even had they not been, they had already expressed their opinions too widely and too loudly.

He would have been even less happy if he had known what they knew; that Sirius Black was about to get a trial, and that they planned to approach him as a free man about a betrothal contract for their daughter and his godson. It would interfere with Dumbledore's plans to marry Harry to Ginny Weasley and recoup the Weasley fortune with the Potter wealth so a loyal family could afford to support the Order of the Phoenix.

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Child services took Harry out of Transfigurations, to McGonagall's annoyance.

"Whit can they want?" she asked, irritably. "Miss Granger?" Hermione had raised her hand.

"I think what they want is confidential or they would not have asked Harry to go with them, for if they, or he, had wanted his private business spread about the school, they might have remained here," said Hermione.

A tic started in McGonagall's face.

"Are ye accusing me of gossiping, Miss Granger?" she purr-snarled.

"Not at all, Madam McGonagall, but then, you are not the only person in this room," said Hermione.

"They found out he's a squib and have taken him away," sneered Ron Weasley. He kept scratching rather intimate places. McGonagall was both repelled by it and worried; the headmaster seemed to have a similar affliction.

"You take my point, Madam McGonagall," said Hermione, sweetly. "The lowest common denominator in the class."

"Five points from Hufflepuff for denigrating a fellow student," said McGonagall.

"And Weasley is getting off scot free for denigrating a fellow student?" asked Hermione.

McGonagall flushed.

"Mr. Potter was not here to hear it," she said.

"That makes it worse," said Draco, "It's taking away his character behind his back, and in public. If Miss Granger loses five points, Weasley should have lost ten."

"That's enough, I will not discuss my reasoning with you," said McGonagall.

Draco nodded.

"It's in the book; the governors will be happy to view a pensieve memory allied with points lost, and houses involved," he said.

"Are you accusing me of favouring my own house?" demanded McGonagall.

"That and being sore that Harry Potter favoured badgers over lions," said Draco. "Well, that is why you are mean to him in class, isn't it?"

"I am not mean to him in class!" McGonagall hissed.

"LIAR!" all the Hufflepuffs said, as though co-ordinated.

McGonagall blanched.

She had not been aware of being harder on Harry. She was expecting him to be as good as James, that was all.

"Class is dismissed; I will rescind the points I took, Miss Granger, as I think you were defending your friend."

"Malfoy ought to be a slimy snake and take his slimy friends with him," said Weasley.

Draco looked at Madam McGonagall with one eyebrow raised. It had taken him two years of practice to achieve the expression, borrowed from Uncle Severus.

"Mr. Weasley, that was uncalled for," said McGonagall.

"Perhaps your father should be told how you go out of your way to antagonise members of the seven," said Hermione, smiling brightly at Weasley.

She planned to tell Percy, who had a broomstick up his arse, but at least he had more understanding of _real politique_ than his youngest brother.

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It was easier to tell his story the second time, and Harry answered questions calmly. He had asked to have Lucius Malfoy along as an adult he trusted, as Madam Sprout was teaching. Lucius stood behind him and massaged his shoulders and neck, which Harry found very soothing.

"It seems clear enough that Albus Dumbledore has abrogated his responsibility as your magical guardian, said the social worker named 'call me Dennis'. "However, though your godfather is likely to be free soon, he will not be mentally able to have care of a minor. Do you have any preference regarding with whom you would like to live?"

Harry glanced up at Lucius.

"My cousin Lucius tells me that Dumbledore would block him and Cousin Cissy being named," he said. He wrote regularly to the Malfoys, and had letters smuggled to him, as well as his share of care packages."

"It's not up to him," said Dennis.

"He's still chief warlock," said Harry. "And he makes people do what he wants."

"I spoke to Madam Pomfrey, and I have reason to believe he has obliviated her and taken sensitive records from her," said Lucius. "Fortunately Madam Pomfrey keeps two copies and keeps copies of her memories as well."

"We have spoken to the school mediwitch," said Dennis' colleague, Harry had not caught her name. "But we need to know with whom Mr. Potter would like to live."

"And what choices am I offered?" asked Harry. "So long as it is neither the Dursleys nor Dumbledore, I fancy almost any choice is better."

"We have received offers from Mr. and Mrs. Tonks; Madam Longbottom; Mrs. Weasley, who informed me that her son was your best friend and you were like a son to her since you are going to marry her only daughter, and Mr. and Mrs. Bulstrode, on grounds that their daughter owes you a life debt and you expressed an interest in a betrothal agreement." The tone was neutral.

"Mrs. Weasley? Seriously? That crazy dame who was breaking the statute of secrecy all over the place? What is she on? I loathe her son, he nearly killed by betrothed, and I wouldn't put the ferrule of an umbrella anywhere near their whiny yet strident brat of a daughter! Where did she get such a ludicrous idea?"

"Millie isn't your betrothed yet," said Lucius. "I would recommend a short term foster with the Bulstrodes to get to know Millie better, Harry, though a long term placement with the Tonks family would be advantageous. However, Nymphadora takes her NEWTs this year, and it may be a stressful situation until she has graduated. I am sure Andromeda and Ted could handle it, but you may not wish to have holidays with a brand new sister who is as tetchy as most people are over exams."

Harry nodded.

"You make good arguments, Lucius. I notice you don't even mention Madam Longbottom."

"She'd train you to your position in society, Harry, and I could see you might wish to be with Neville, but she's a battleaxe, and I rather thought a stickler for rules might be too like your aunt for comfort."

"Lucius, you're quite right," said Harry, in a heartfelt tone. "Can the Tonks family be let known that I'd consider them but for the uncomfortable situation of a NEWT student in full cry?"

"Certainly," said Dennis. "Very well, we had to check if this betrothal was going against your wishes. Apparently any betrothal mooted by the Weasleys is not to your taste."

"Mr. Hulit," said Lucius, "You need to check if there is an infancy betrothal arranged for the Weasley girl by Dumbledore. If there is, I think it can be argued that if Dumbledore signed it as the boy's guardian, as Harry's guardian," he added as Harry stiffened to be called 'the boy', "As he has abrogated all responsibility for Harry, and has proved an inappropriate guardian, it should be declared void."

"We shall investigate that," said Dennis Hulit. "There seems to have been a lot of malfeasance going on; and we will take it up with the goblins to see if there has been financial malfeasance."

"One of my account managers is called Logjamb," said Harry. "But he administers the Slytherin account which I claimed by right of conquest from Voldemort."

Both social workers winced.

Lucius elevated an elegant eyebrow with a style which would have had Draco sigh in envy.

"Very enterprising of you, Harry," he said.

"I am looking forward to sharing how enterprising I can be," said Harry. "Draco says you make investments in the muggle world too."

"I have no intention of ignoring it," shrugged Lucius. "Your suggestions were good ones."

"I look forward to you teaching me economics," said Harry.

"Your godfather may wish to do that," said Lucius.

"He's hors de combat at the moment; and we might not like each other," said Harry, with a shrug. "I look on you as the foster father I should have had."

"Thank you, Harry," said Lucius.

The boy was clever, sneaky and powerful. How he had healed a girl on whom Madam Pomfrey had given up, Lucius could not guess. But anyone that powerful was someone to follow, because he could defeat the dark lord.

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Apparently Lucius had also finally managed to contact Nicholas Flamel, who turned up in a rage. Dumbledore took the irate alchemist to his office, and the first year Puffs truanted from DADA to sneak around and watch his reactions to the third floor corridor.

Flamel was still holding forth as he came out of the corridor, expostulating that any group of determined first years could have reached his stone, and as for using the mirror of Erised to conceal it, that was the daftest idea ever to have such an artefact in a school full of children with hormonal desires.

"But Nicholas, how can I entrap the servant of Voldemort without something he would want?" demanded Dumbledore.

"I would suggest that if you even suspect any of your staff of following that madman you should sack him immediately or hand him over to your law enforcement," said Flamel, curtly.

"But I need to keep him close to me, and besides, Harry Potter can defeat him ..."

Flamel stopped.

"Cease these games with a child's life, Albus!" he said. "Get the deatheater out of a school full of children, you fool, and stop messing with the head of a little boy. Even you at that age could not have born what you are trying to force on that poor little boy. He is eleven!"

"But the prophecy ..."

"If I believed every damned prophecy I have seen, I'd never have got anything done," said Flamel. "I will be keeping a strict watch on Harry Potter, and if I even suspect you of playing games with his life, Perenelle and I will be delighted to adopt him. I think _my_ name trumps even yours."

"I really don't know what you are talking about," said Dumbledore, sulkily. "I am just trying to serve the common good, and if one boy needs to be trained to sacrifice himself to kill the accidental horcrux in his scar, it will save more lives in the long run."

"You can't make an accidental horcrux, you senile old fool," said Flamel, which as Hermione said later was a technical case of the pot calling down the cauldron on its soot. "I will be speaking with my source, to see that any soul fragment in the boy is dealt with."

"But ..."

"Good day, Albus," said Flamel.

He turned enough to wink at the 'Puffs.

Hermione was already almost half way to the library to look up 'horcrux'. Harry and Draco shrugged, and went to the owl loft, to ask Lucius.

He probably had access to the sort of books Hermione was unable to get out of the library.

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"You want me to do what?" demanded Severus.

"I don't think it's that complex," said the headmaster. "I just need you to mention that you had used the stone, with permission, to brew some batches of the elixir of life. Without the stone, I need something to be bait for Quirrel."

"If you know that Quirrel is working for the dark lord, I don't know why you even need bait," said Severus. "You know who. You know where. Just stun him, bind him, and hand him over to Amelia."

"Since when were you on first name terms with Amelia Bones?" Dumbledore narrowed his eyes.

Severus smirked.

"Since I turned myself in and asked to be questioned under veritaserum, after a purging potion, and to explain my role in the last war, and have it officially logged that the dark lord was so keen to have a potioneer that I have never actually committed any murders or performed any acts of terrorism. A chance you denied me when you took over my trial."

"It never occurred to me that you had not gone on raids," said Dumbledore.

"No, I suppose it wouldn't; you have always been happy to believe badly of me, especially when you had your Gryffindor bullies to protect," sneered Severus. "Any more than it ever occurred to you to ask me whether I had or not; or whether you asked who drew wand first when it was me against the marauders. Or whether it ever occurred to you to wonder why I was jumpy around men and cowered away from any touch. Because for all your act as a favourite uncle, you don't actually care. But now I am free of you. I am on record for my lack of actual crimes. And Amelia isn't fond of you at all."

"Well, bless my soul!" said Dumbledore.

"If you have one, it needs it," sniped Severus as he walked out.

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Ronald Weasley though he would go mad if all the things afflicting him carried on. He couldn't understand it, he had asked his brothers to get rid of any curses on him, and he had taken a purging potion, which was pretty awful for itself, but he was still itching all over, bursting out randomly in boils, babbling things at random, and worst, skipping – _skipping_ – down to breakfast singing that he was a lumberjack and he didn't care.

The combination of a vindictive herbalist and a psychotic house elf with no moral scruples called Dobby, who was happy to help little master and Master Harry Potter Sir, enabled Ron's clothing to be treated with a number of vegetable substances. One of which was a skin-absorbed magical version of psilocybin from yawning mushrooms brushed on his pyjamas while Dobby played the lumberjack song through headphones into his sleeping ears until magic killed the electronics of the walkman.

And it was worth every penny for the killed walkman.

Hearing Ronald Weasley singing, rather off key, that he wanted to be a girlie just like his dear papa was priceless.

McGonagall was frantically casting _finite incantatem_ without effect. She sent Ron to the hospital wing, whence he had to be dragged, declaring that he had not had his breakfast and had not been allowed to put on suspenders, panties and a bra. McGonagall settled for the silencing spell.

Harry also wrote to Mr. Weasley, as Heir Potter, calling a grievance over the youngest scion Weasley's attack upon the intended bride of House Potter, being a matter of attempted line theft.

It was reaching, but it was only to rattle the Weasley cage.

When Harry got a howler from Mrs. Weasley, telling him off for being such an ingrate as he was going to marry her daughter, Harry stood, and turned to Percy.

"Nothing personal, Mr. Weasley, but your mother has just committed assault on the heir of one of the seven. I trust you will explain to your siblings and father what this means. I give you twenty four hours to inform your father that I expect him to take action, or I will press charges."

"Harry, my boy, there is no need for that," said Dumbledore.

"Oh yes there is, Albus," said Harry.

There was a long pause.

"Mr. Potter! Show the headmaster respect!" snapped McGonagall.

"Oh, I was, Madam McGonagall," said Harry. "He plainly invited me to use his first name, as he used mine."

"Dear me, Harry, my boy, it doesn't work like that," said Dumbledore.

"It does for me, Albus," said Harry. "And I am not your boy. Any more than Professor Snape is, although I've heard you degrading him by using that form of address. You gave up any chance to make me your boy, in a familial sense, not sexual, I hasten to add, by leaving me on the doorstep when I was a baby and giving me to insane muggles with a taste for violence to beat out the magic. Looks as though one or two of Slytherin's few muggleborn feel affinity with me for that. But now you've been proved by the court to be an inadequate guardian, I am not your boy, and in truth never was. Now I am wondering whether to sue you to your last knut for the distress caused to me in my infancy, or whether I can't be bothered because you are too insignificant. My, that hit the spot, didn't it?" Magic was rolling off Dumbledore and the walls shook.

"Hogwarts, still this," said Harry.

The walls stopped shaking, and Dumbledore stiffened as if bound.

Harry managed not to look surprised that it had actually worked; came of being Slytherin's new heir, perhaps. He had banked on Dumbledore getting control, and then claiming it was his influence. He wasn't about to knock a good thing, however.

"I will not rest until I have defeated the dark lord," said Harry. Dumbledore started to smile. "The dark lord Dumbledore," said Harry.

He got a spontaneous cheer from Slytherin, yells of support from Hufflepuff, confused looks from Ravenclaw and boos and thrown food from Gryffindor.

Percy stood, and addressed him.

"I will take the will of Heir Potter under advisement," he said. "I know nothing of my mother's plans for Ginny."

"Dark Lord He-who-must-be-fed-lemon tried to make an illegal betrothal contract, but my lawyers are dealing with that," said Harry.

"I am sorry that members of my family have offended," said Percy.

"I have no quarrel with you, and I have no quarrel with the twins, or your father, or your older brothers I have not met," said Harry. "I have a quarrel with big-mouth rudesby, and that covers your pathetic mother and your more pathetic brother."

"The Weasley family will handle the source of your dissatisfaction," said Percy.

"Perce..." said Fred.

"You two will be silent," said Percy. "You have no idea of the implications of what Ron has done to our family and our mother has exacerbated."

"I am sure Mr. Potter is willing to forgive and forget," said Dumbledore, trying again.

"I don't see how you can be so sure unless you plan to cast the Imperius curse on me to make me do so," said Harry. "I don't forgive and forget. If I forgive, I do not forget. I do not readily forgive. I will never forgive you, old man, for ten years in Durzkaban, and I will never forgive you for ten years of my sworn godfather in Azkaban for supposedly committing an act which would kill him through his oath. I will never forgive Ronald Weasley or Molly Weasley for their attacks on my house. Be thankful that I would prefer to leave you and the coward known as Flees-Death in French to the law enforcement. Because one day, you might find if you try to strike me down, I will be more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

"Hey, who died and made you Obi-Wan?" called Justin.

Harry grinned. Then froze. Quirrel appeared to be having an argument with himself, and then he turned his back on Harry – except he whipped off his turban to show a loathsome face on the other side.

"Sheesh," said Harry. He started singing to Colonel Bogey,

"Flees-death, he hasn't got a nose,

Quirrel has one but what a pose,

Bella might have a smella,

but look how the snot starts to flow."

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ screeched the back side of Quirrel.

Harry heard it start and shouted,

" _Accio Dumbles_!"

The headmaster's body adequately blocked the curse and the schoolchildren screamed.

"Join," said Harry.

"Harry, if he ak's you, what about us?" asked Draco.

"Dunno, but I bet it would bounce," said Harry. The blood-bonded joined.

Snape had moved and was pouring curses into Quirrel.

"Traitor!" howled Voldemort.

"So sue me," growled Snape.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione wrung her hands.

"Stay ready, and let the grown ups do what they should have done before the students got here," said Harry. "I do like herbology," he added, as Madam Sprout conjured a devil's snare plant which started strangling Quirrel.

It was over soon enough, and a black wraith issued from Quirrel's head.

"I will not forget," he hissed.

"Well, finally Albus fulfilled his oath as a guardian to protect me; now I can forgive him," said Harry. "One dark lord down, the other half down. I don't fancy any more breakfast, shall we go play goblin wars?"

"Yeah," said Neville.

Harry naturally picked Dumbledore's pockets, finding he had two wands, one of which felt very warm and welcoming, as well as an hourglass-shaped object and a number of other artefacts which might prove useful.

The old man would not have carried them if he did not find them useful, after all. However, it was the wands which interested Harry most. He knew about priori incantatem by now, and considered it very useful to have a source of plausible deniability.

Christmas with the Bulstrodes was wonderful. When Harry explained he had never had Christmas before, or even any gifts, Millie hugged him hard.

The oddest gift came from Madam McGonagall, or rather, from the late headmaster, with a covering letter that McGonagall had found the item wrapped, with the gift tag declaring it to be family heirloom of the Potter family. This turned out to be an invisibility cloak.

Harry grinned.

This was not a responsible gift to give to a pickpocket. It really sealed his opinion of Dumbledore as totally irresponsible, but he was not about to knock it.

The rest of the year went smoothly, and the four got to know Millie better. In fact she spent more time in the Hufflepuff common room than in Slytherin.

Harry went home to the Tonks residence, now the Tonks-Wenlock residence as Ted Tonks had proven to be in descent of the famous medieval mathematician. Dora was delighted to have a little brother, and Harry informed her that as he was so happy to have a sister, he would not have to blackmail her by threatening to tell the other aurors in training what her name was. So long as she settled for a name which was less silly than just Tonks.

Tonks went to Somerset House and formally changed her name, for the nominal fee of thirty quid, which is all it takes for British muggles to legally change their names, to Kate Tonks.

Sirius Black had reinstated Andromeda, her husband and daughter into the Black family, but she was proud of her father and what he had achieved.

It had been stressful meeting Black, when he was deemed fit to meet his godson, but Harry had done so with gritted teeth. Uncle Severus had told him a few stories, and at that, Harry thought he was holding back.

"He's immature, Harry," Uncle Severus said. "He can't tell the difference between a joke and bullying. Nobody disputes your right to live with him if you choose to do so, but you need to know that if you do, you'll be the responsible adult in the house."

As Sirius had first thrown a full scale tantrum that it was Lucius who had brought his godson to visit him, Harry had scooted behind Lucius and asked if they could leave.

Lucius had left an eavesdropping charm on the head of the Black family, seeing that his werewolf friend was with him, albeit sitting in the background.

"Oh, very well done, Padfoot," said Remus Lupin, with sarcasm almost worthy of Severus. "You've managed to terrify your godson by growling and barking at him."

"But he was with Malfoy!" whined the mutt.

"You are aware that it was Lucius Malfoy who got you out of Azkaban, aren't you?" asked Lupin.

"What?"

"Malfoy set up the investigation which got you cleared, on grounds that his wife is a member of the Black family," said Lupin. "Harry asked him to find out about it. Apparently he will do anything for a friend of his son."

"The world is topsy turvy," complained Black.

Subsequent visits had gone better, but when Black was discharged from St Mungo's, Harry petitioned to stay with the Tonks-Wenlocks rather than go to live with his godfather.

Meanwhile, Lucius was researching Tom Riddle and horcruxes, and had a nasty moment of revelation when he recalled a certain diary, and with Andromeda's permission, took it, and Harry, to the Goblins to ask if they could both remove the soul fragment from Harry's head, and find any true horcruxes.

Goblin rituals being less brute force than Wizarding ones, the soul fragment was removed, and the other artefacts summoned using elemental earth powers. Meanwhile, Harry was still receiving such muggle money as the goblins had, and Lucius bought him for his birthday a necklace with charms on in the shape of the Monopoly pieces, each of which was a portkey to different places like Potter Manor, Malfoy Manor, Hogwarts and the Tonks house.

As Harry now owned a hotel on Mayfair it seemed fitting.

And Logjamb was his full time broker in the muggle world as well, and doing very nicely thank you. Logjamb blessed the day he had been polite to the scruffy looking wizard child,

He was dreaming of the day when he could convert his muggle assets to gold and buy out the Gringotts directorship, and bring the Goblin nation kicking, screaming, and making money into the 20th century.

Harry learned politics from Lucius as well as from his father in law elect, and by the time Harry left school, he and Lucius owned most of the Wizengamot between them. Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley joined them as bloodbonded; Theo Nott turned it down. They were all close enough to love each other, but paired off, with Draco marrying Hermione, and becoming undersecretary when she became Minister of Magic, Justin married Susan to perpetuate the Bones family, and Neville married Hannah.

Dolores Umbridge died mysteriously of a fungal infection usually confined solely to lupins, and Harry became chief Warlock, and enacted laws for the protection of squibs and their descendents with full disclosure to them so that when their descendents displayed magical powers they would not enter wizarding society ignorant of the ways things were done, and hence less likely to rock the status quo in an uncontrolled way.

Naturally, Harry and his friends plotted to rock the status quo in ways which were going to work.

Harry was not impatient. He was a wizard, and wizards lived a long time.

Especially as he had picked Flamel's pocket for the philosopher's stone and had ransomed it back in exchange for enough elixir of life to keep his own group alive until they were about 200. It would be enough to do what needed to be done.

First lesson a pickpocket learns, after all, is not to get greedy. A full fist can get stuck in a narrow entrance.


End file.
